Colorless
by Draenog Glas
Summary: Sonic arrives at Knuckles house in the dead of winter, asking for a favor. Sonic's desire simply alienates both of them in the end, making the entire spring colorless and cold. Written for a birthday gift for a friend. SonKnux.


Winter had bloomed with its eaves of yellow and red incandescent light, a cigarette being hushed out as the sun soon dimmed in the horizon. His breath left wispy trails as he traveled to Knuckle's house. His hands felt so frost-bitten that the mittens couldn't shield them from the cold. The cigarette kept him warm, but the last one flickered out. His hope did, as well.

He counted to 10. Breathed. The winter had been suckered into his lungs. He knocked on the door. Sonic expected Knuckles to come out in his usual attire, with his tie-dye t-shirts and his mandala necklaces. The fire kindled on the hearth, and his hands felt warm at the thought of being in front of the blazing fire. Soup was being made. And Knuckles didn't plan to share any with him, yet made plenty for six people.

He voiced the words, yet no audible sound came out.

_I'm lonely._

_I need someone to stay with for a while._

_I wanted to be with you for a while._

_Life is difficult._

_I want you to be difficult with me._

Knuckles stared at him expecting a sound to come from his throat, his tissues and muscles that could vibrate and create a chord to speak. He was reasonably upset, but felt he couldn't shut the door on a guest. He was visibly cold. The winter was harsh on everyone. Sonic rarely came out, except to speak with his friends. Love and attention always did the trick.

"Where's Tails? Do you expect him to want you right now?"

"He's asleep. I just gave him some warm milk and told him a bedtime story. Nothin' big."

His demeanor never changed. He kept glaring at him. Winter had a harsh mood on everyone. Knuckles often just sat at home and made soup and recited prayers. The Master Emerald was still safe under his eyes.

His lips moved, but no sound, no discernible thoughts, came out.

_I need you._

_Save me._

_I just need someone to help me._

He asked Knuckles for a cigarette.

"I don't smoke, you know that Sonic."

"Of course." He grinned, while Knuckles scowled back. His hands no longer shivered in the fire place. Knuckles stirred the soup, a warm potato and cheese oozing out of his spoon.

The stirring was slow, strong, and he began to ask Sonic questions.

"Why did you come to my house this late at night?"

The words couldn't come out again. His heart had reached for him, but stayed firmly locked in his chest.

_I want you._

_I want to feel what it's like to be happy._

_I want to feel okay._

_I want to feel reborn._

Sonic gazed at his snow boots. Knuckles grew more annoyed as he avoided his questions, his fists tightening. He muttered a mantra under his breath and served the soup. It warmed Sonic's soul, his body, his heart, and he wished Knuckles could do the same for him.

_Why are you angry?_

_I'm angry at myself._

_But I can never say anything about it._

_Else people will pity me, and I don't want that._

_If anything, I pity other people._

The gems Knuckles collected that spread from the top of his fireplace glittered in the fire's light. He thought it looked beautiful, the light glittering in his room.

"Knuckles?"

His fists turned red, but another mantra calmed him. The anger management treatments have been working out, Sonic thought. Yet it was fun to rile him, but he wasn't in the mood to play. He was cold, and his body felt discarded. A shell that he shed, while the newborn body flew away. The dead cockroach he was. His blood pulsed through his body, as he touched him, the eyes dilating and nearly sizzling from his skull, but Sonic leaned in closer, expecting him to inch forward, but his cheeks had grown red from the blood rushing into them, and his head felt disorientated, his heart had raced, and he wanted to hold him, protect him, do anything he could to take care of him as well as he took care of Tails. And his body felt nauseous, the discarded shell finally showing emotions, finally finding a lost piece. Possibly.

He closed his eyes, as he could feel Knuckle's body relax, nearly limp, and his lips had touched his, and he wanted the moment to last longer than what seemed to be a few seconds, but Knuckles had pushed him away, and he left the soup cold on the table, as he claimed he was "very tired" and needed to rest for spring finally arriving.

"I don't think spring will be arriving for a really long time, Knuckles," Sonic said.

Knuckles replied with silence.

Sonic watched the flames lick the glacial jewels, while he could hear Knuckles snoring in the next room.

He wished he could hear the snores next to his ear, in the same bed.

The last snowflake of the season fell on the cloaked ground. It was spring, but it was still so bitterly cold, that Sonic still wore his mittens and coat.


End file.
